


Push ('Til One of Us Breaks)

by HollowSpiritFree



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Barebacking, Basically Barry is a brat, Blowjobs, Bondage, Cockwarming, Come as Lube, Creampie, Dom!Len, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, I know weird right?, Impact Play, M/M, Masochism, Masochist!Barry, Negotiations, Older Man/Younger Man, Possessive Behavior, RACK - Freeform, Rough Sex, SSC, Sadism, Sadist!Len, Sex Toys, Sexting, Spanking, Sub!Barry, Teasing, but Len can handle it, healthy relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowSpiritFree/pseuds/HollowSpiritFree
Summary: Len sometimes wonders how he ever thought Barry was innocent...





	1. Rope

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, kiddos, this is VERY different from anything that I have previously written/posted. I strongly urge you to make sure that you have read the tags and are comfortable with what is going down in this fic. Do not read if you are under the age of 18 (up to 21 in some countries)! 
> 
> Seriously, did you read the tags?

The fire crackled warmly, casting the most beautiful glow on Barry’s flawless skin. His lips twisted into a smirk when he saw Barry’s breath hitch at the feel of his hands sliding up those long, gorgeous legs, his nails just barely digging into pale flesh.

 

He ducked his head close, blew cool air over Barry’s ear, the flushed skin of his cheek, as he draped the doubled-over rope over Barry’s shoulders, taking in the scent of the sweet oil he’d rubbed into Barry’s skin earlier.

 

He pulled back and ran his fingertips over lithe shoulder muscles that twitched at his touch while he moved to stand before his willing captive, enjoying the soft purr that the touch pulled from Barry’s throat. He worked methodically, pulling new knots, four of them, into place all the way down Barry’s chest from smooth shoulders to slim hips. He leveled Barry a wicked smile and wrapped his hand around Barry’s hard length, slipping him between two thick strands, and then—

 

He circled around behind him, grasping the rope once again. He brought the tail end up, through the loop at the nape of Barry’s neck, watched as the strands of rope pressed in between the perfect, round swells of his ass.

 

He then began the careful process of wrapping his arms in rope—a single strand coming down each side, snaking around his arms and securing his arms in place against his sides. He brushed soft touches against the sensitive skin over his ribs there, licking a strip along his flesh and cooling it with gentle breaths just to admire the gooseflesh it created before returning to his work. He pulled each strand through the space between the knots at the front of his chest, careful that there’s just enough pressure—a snug fit, but easy enough to breathe in.

 

He wound strands of rope around his hips, dropped another line of knots down between Barry’s lean thighs, and fastened his ankles together, before working his way back up, pulling the rope into diamond shapes and securing it at the small of his back.

 

When he finally pulled away to admire his work, he had to admit that it was some of the best he’d ever done. The knots were evenly spaced, rope holding long, thin limbs in place, leaving no room for escape. He ran his hands down Barry’s ribs, reveling in the texture of smooth flesh and prickly twine, and takes a moment to listen to Barry’s deep and even breaths.

 

He carefully helped Barry turn, gently guiding him onto the bed in a face down, kneeling position, then ran a single finger down the length of Barry’s spine before his hand came to rest on Barry’s plush ass. He watched Barry’s back curve with feline grace, highlighted by the play of rope down his spine.

 

He palmed the flesh in his hand for a moment more before pulling away with one final squeeze. 

 

He picked up the leather tawse from its former resting place in front of Barry’s face, ran the leather strips across his palm before he let it rest against that soft flesh that he’d just been kneading a moment before. He brushed the leather between the mounds of Barry’s ass cheeks, ran it down along the crease where leg muscle joins with the torso.

 

His hand pulled back, ready for a good swing, something to quickly pull that sleepy look from Barry’s relaxed face, when he heard a quietly murmured, “Yellow.”

 

The tawse drops to the bed in an instant, and Len leans over to better see Barry’s face. Was the rope too tight around his chest? He didn’t want to choke Barry… “What’s wrong?”

 

Barry’s eyes cracked open, an unfortunately increasingly familiar expression of mischief sparkling in their pretty green depths.

 

“I have to pee.”

 

The crack of the leather tawse impacting with the meaty flesh of Barry’s ass could probably be heard from the street. His loud cry?

 

Definitely.


	2. The Beginning

Len was restless. It wasn’t a completely foreign sensation, and usually a good heist was able to drive away the cravings for a thrill. This was something different, though, something a little darker, a need he only rarely felt. This was a violent urge, and he knew just where to go to slake it.

 

Red Escape, on the outside, looked like any slightly upscale building in Central. Maybe a classy hotel. Its big glass front doors opened up on a fancy lobby, all white floors and dark wood accents and clean lines. The greeter, a young woman named Anna, complimented her severe ponytail with a leather cocktail dress—sexy, but not something that would alert any old vanilla tourist to the true nature of the club.

  
Red Escape was far from the high end hotel or office that it appeared to be.

 

It was, in fact, a sex dungeon.

 

A very classy dungeon, to be sure—the best place for those in the community who valued privacy and safety above all else, Red Escape wouldn’t open its doors to anyone who didn’t have an invitation, and there were strict regulations for those looking to get ahold of one. This was to ensure the safety and pleasant experiences of their patrons, and in the end none of those patrons ever complained about the difficulty in gaining entrance since, in this community, it was incredibly reassuring to know that your playmate was… up to standards. Len would admit, to himself at least, that he was lucky to know the owner of the club, otherwise his ‘career choices’ would definitely have prevented him from ever making it past the front door, and  _ that  _ really would be a shame for everyone.

 

Anna held an arrogant air around her, the kind of attitude that would have turned away anyone who wasn’t in the know, when she asked for his ID. He offered up a slim black card and watched her entire demeanor change. “Welcome back, Mr. Snart,” she purred. With one long, manicured finger, she pressed the button to call the elevator, which opened up on a much different scene two floors up.

 

A large dance floor, hazily lit in a vibrant red tone, took up the majority of the main room, with a bar and lounge off to one side, and an area for demonstrations on the other. Len eyed the St. Andrews cross consideringly, imagining what he could do. His fingers were practically twitching from the possibilities.

 

He was in the mood to play, but first he had to find someone else in a similar state.

 

So he headed to the bar.

 

He heard it just when he had taken a seat—a laugh, lilting and strangely familiar. An old playmate?

 

He glanced around the room, hearing the voice respond to whatever had caused the laugh, but the music and other conversations stole away any comprehensible worse—it was all tone and pitch calling to him. He looked down the bar, and finally found him.

 

The young man was leaning on the bar and speaking with Natalie, the bartender. He was all tall, lean muscle with a shock of think dark hair and a bright smile. And… he was  _ here _ . Well, obviously he was here, it was just…

 

It wasn’t often that Len was taken by surprise. This, he had to investigate.

 

He approached unseen and leaned back against the bar, drawling out a casual, “Wouldn’t have expected to see you here, Scarlet.”

 

He watched the man’s shoulders tense in surprise before the scientist turned to him, cocked his head, and, to Len’s surprise, a smile that could almost be called a smirk found its way onto Barry Allen’s lips. “I could say the same to you, Snart,” he said cheerfully. “I hadn’t realized they let old men like you out of the home at this hour.”

 

Few people have the courage to mouth of to Len these days. That’s not the only reason Len found himself stunned for the third time tonight. The other, of course, being that the playful response came from  _ The Flash _ , the softest, most morally rigid hero Len’s ever met.

 

Before he could reply, though, Natalie approached to take his order. He kept his eyes on Scarlet the whole time, half expecting him to flash off at any moment. But he doesn’t seem interested in escaping. No, he instead relaxed into his seat and sipped on his own drink, lazily watching Len watch him.

 

Natalie dropped off his drink a moment later. He down the shot and turned his his eyes back on Scarlet. “So,” he mused, voice lower and deeper than he’d used around the Flash before. “What does  _ Barry Allen _ get out of a place like this? You hero types don’t seem like the kind to enjoy inflicting much pain.”

 

A faint flush rose to Barry’s cheeks, and he looked down for a moment at his own drink. He mumbled something, took a deep breath, and then met Len’s gaze again.

 

“Well, you’re not wrong—about me, at least,” he said, and Len wonders who he  _ is  _ wrong about. Probably someone like the Arrow—there was a guy with a real hard-on for sadism if Len had ever met one. “I’m a sub,” Barry offered up with a shrug.

 

He trailed his gaze down the lean form of Barry Allen, perched on the stool and relaxed against the bar, he was comfortable, but he was still making himself smaller than his height would suggest by slouching in his seat and resting his chin in his hand. His feet were placed close together on the footrest.

 

Yeah, he could see it.

 

“And, I can tell that you’re a Dom,” Barry hummed. Len raised a single brow, only allowing the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Oh, definitely,” Barry said, with a serious little nod, before he broke out in a grin again. “I’ve known since you kidnapped Cisco. Normal people—and by that, I mean people outside of this community,” he twirled a finger in the air, gesturing to the club in general, “don’t tie up victims the way you did.”

 

“Hostages are tied up all the time,” he felt the need to point out. Barry hummed in agreement.

 

“That’s true. And usually, the hostage is left with ligament marks and other symptoms of compressed air flow or cut-off blood supply. But you didn’t leave any marks on Cisco. And that tells me, as a scientist, something.”   
  


“Oh?” He drifted closer, until he was invading Barry’s personal space, could smell the sweet sandalwood scent of his cologne and lemon hand soap, could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

“And what did that tell you?”

 

Barry looked down again, but this time his hands came up to play with the button on Len’s sleeve. He pretended he couldn’t feel the heat seeping through his shirt. “That not only did you know what you were doing, and have a lot of experience in tying people up,” he said with a small smile, “But you, the only man I know of who thinks of each individual second as even more valuable than William Tockman does—you  _ took your time _ .” He finished slowly, head tilted back and grinning down his nose. 

 

Len took in a sharp breath through his nose, then grabbed Barry’s hand. He leaned close to breath in his ear, “Would you like to grab a cup of coffee?”

 

Barry laughed. “It’s almost midnight!”

 

“Not tonight; Saturday, five o’clock—Although if things go to plan, you won’t want to  _ sleep _ when you get home.”

 

He could feel the grin in Barry’s voice. “Your plans have a tendency to fall apart.”

 

He stroked the back of Barry’s neck, curling a finger through the short hair there. Then he tugged on the hand he still held, and lead Barry to the elevator.

 

“I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

 

 

 


	3. Coffee and Kinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Aliyah, who pushed (ha!) me to get this chapter out. *Fingerguns out the window*

 

“I like to hurt innocent little subs,” Len whispered, spacing his words out for emphasis while grinning wickedly and leaning forward over the table. “I tie them up, first. Then I torture them. I might turn their pretty little asses red, or wind them up for hours without letting them cum until after I’ve fucked them hard.”

 

They sat in the corner booth of the little coffee shop that Lisa had been telling him she wanted to try—nice and private, but welcoming, and much quieter than the place Barry’s foster sister worked at. Really, it was the perfect place for their conversation, especially considering the way Barry had just bitten his plush lower lip.

 

“C’mon, Barry. I told you mine, now it’s your turn.”

 

The flush that rose to Barry’s cheeks was peachy and quite appealing. He stared down at his own hands, which were twisting in his cheap napkin, before he admitted, stutteringly, “I-um, I like being spanked. And, um,” he flushed darker, but his hand rose up to rub his own throat. “I like breathplay. Among other things.”

  
Poor boy. His confidence from the other night all but evaporated, and now here he was, obviously turned on in the middle of a coffee shop in broad daylight.

 

Len took mercy on Barry. It was the first, and probably the last time it would happen, but taking in his posture, he thought that he needed to act carefully during these next few meetings. With a hum, as if he were barely acknowledging what Barry had said—as if he wasn’t imagining Barry spread out underneath his hands at that very moment—he asked, “Did you ever hear about the time Mick and I tried to rob a jewelry store in Germany, only to be driven out by an old man with a strange amount of cabbages?”

 

Barry’s looked up suddenly, eyes wide and lips parted in a faint smile. “Really?”

 

“Mm-hm. We were after this set of rubies embedded in a retired crown—”

* * *

 

“And so I shouted at him to just grab something that looked valuable and run—because we needed to be out of the country in a few hours anyway, and I certainly wasn’t going to leave without making a profit—only for the old man to suddenly spring up from when I’d thought he’d passed out on the floor behind the ring case, holding a cabbage like it was something threatening. I actually laughed. I’m serious—it’s possibly my greatest regret. Because this old man turns to me, and without a word, he chucks the cabbage at my head. Leaves go flying everywhere, it smells like an uncooked Bangladeshi stew, Mick is screaming like a little girl, my nose is definitely broken, and the old man somehow manages to produce _another_ cabbage from somewhere. I take one look around the room, and just make a break for the window. Mick comes following after me, but his fat rear end gets stuck in the window, and I’m trying to pull him out when all of a sudden he just goes quiet. I manage to get him out, and as we’re running down the street when he gets ahead of me. Which was so awful because I see cabbage leaves sticking to the back of his pants, and then I just know what had happened. When we get to the car, he takes a minute to just look at me and says, ‘We will never speak of this again.’” He finishes in a fairly good imitation of Mick’s gruff voice. Barry’s cheeks are still red, but now the blush is accompanied by a wide grin.

 

At that moment, the waitress came by with the coffee mug. She grinned and looked between them conspiratorially while she filled their mugs up again without a word, and then beat a hasty retreat. With a calculating look in his eyes, Len waited for the waitress to be out of earshot, and then gestured to his mug and told Barry, “Prepare my coffee—one sugar.”

 

To his surprise, a dry, almost challenging look entered Barry’s own gaze. He plucked a single, little blue packet out of the ceramic jar and dropped it into the mug—little blue paper and all.

 

With a smirk, he grabbed Barry’s hand before he could pull it back. Without breaking eye contact, he scooped the packet out of the coffee and brought it to his lips to suck the excess coffee off. Then he turned Barry’s hand over and dropped the wet packet into his hand.

 

As he was ripping apart a new packet, without even looking at Barry, he said conversationally, “You know, if you belonged to me, I’d beat your ass for that.”

 

He glanced up to see Barry’s reaction. Barry smirked, a real smirk that somehow looked so right on Barry’s lips, and he said, “What a shame.”

 

Len took a sip of his coffee before replying. “I’d be surprised if you tried to tell me now that you’re not a masochist after what you told me earlier.”

 

“Oh, no. I meant, what a shame—I was hoping you were planning on actually doing something, but I know sometimes older men have ‘troubles,’ so I guess if you’re not up to the task…” Len smirked into his mug, and then grabbed his keys.

 

“If that’s the case, then follow me. We have a lot to discuss over a fairly short ride.”

 

Len guided Barry to his car with a hand resting gently on the back Barry’s neck.

 

“I’m taking us to Red Escape,” Len said once he was behind the wheel. “I know not everyone feels the same, but I prefer the first time with a new partner to be somewhere neutral that we both consider safe.”

 

Barry swallowed, and Len noted that his long fingers had curled into the leather seat. “That’s fine with me,” he said.

 

They were both quiet for a few minutes, then; Len was pleased to note that it wasn’t an awkward silence, more … anticipatory.

 

“I could tell you were somewhat uncomfortable discussing this in the coffee shop, but it is important that we’re both upfront about what we’re expecting,” Len murmured, when the silence had stretched just a little too long for his liking—in this sort of situation, at least. “We’ve both said we’re interested in turning your pert little ass a nice shade of red,” He flicked a glance at Barry, and then hummed and couldn’t entirely hide the wicked grin that touched his lips. “I bet it’ll match the color of your blush right now. I need to know what else is acceptable, though. Consent is… very important.”

 

“What do you have in mind?”

 

“Turning this on me? I’ll let that go for now… Would you let me tie you up?”

 

“Yes,” Barry answered quickly. Len smiled once again.

 

“Are you comfortable with dirty talk, wax play, knives, and needles.”

 

“I’m fine with dirty talk—but I’m probably not the best at reciprocating that, I love wax, I’m not especially comfortable with knives or needles. Actually, needles are a hard limit for me. I just… no.”

 

Len nodded. That was understandable, and he could work with it. “Is there anything else specifically don’t want me to do, or do you have any kinks in particular that haven’t been mentioned yet.”

 

“I’m generally not comfortable with anything that will change my appearance in any long-lasting way. I saw a girl have all her hair cut off once and I just wouldn’t be comfortable with something like that. Otherwise, um,” He could hear Barry swallow. “I have, um, I have a bit of a daddy kink?” His voice trailed up at the end, and he studiously ignored Len, favoring the view out the passenger side window.

 

Len’s brows shot up. _That_ was interesting. He wondered if his age got Barry going. He mulled it over in his head. On the one hand, he understood it—in general, subs wanted to be taken care of. Even if not all sub would admit it, or would turn it around into an argument that they were submissive because they wanted to serve their dom, they still received the safety and pleasure from giving someone else control. On the other hand, there were some parts of the DDlg community that definitely freaked Len out—especially considering his own family history.

 

“Not, like, oh, god, I don’t mean I want you to tie my shoes or anything,” Barry started when he had apparently taken too long to answer. “I just, um. I like the… softer? Sort of feel, especially compared to, like 24/7 Master/slave relationships…”

 

He hummed. He supposed if that were the case… “I’m not sure how I feel about you actually calling me daddy while I’m flogging you,” he said, and watched Barry shift out of the corner of his eye, “but I think I understand what you mean. Does this come with a praise kink?”

 

“I—oh. I don’t know?”

 

He grinned, and reached out to rest his hand at the back of Barry’s neck again. “Do you want to be my good boy?” He asked, making sure his voice went deep on the last few words. Barry squirmed again, nearly rutting against the car seat, and swallowed hard.

 

“Yes,” he said breathlessly.

 

By this point, Barry could _hard_ ly (ha!) hide the bulge in his jeans, and he was squirming every few seconds. Len traced his hand down Barry’s shoulder and arm to clamp down on his upper thigh—close, but not quite where Barry wanted it, he could tell. He watched Barry go still.

 

“Then sit still until we get there.”

 

His only answer was a whimper, which he counted as a victory.

* * *

 

When they got to Red Escape, Len once against escorted Barry, this time with his hand on his pretty little scientist’s lower back, right over to a private room.

 

He said he liked the first time in a neutral place, not in public.

 

He closed the door firmly, and flicked the lock, then turned to see Barry standing  near the cot—a nice, sturdy thing sort of like a massage table with four posts extending into the ceiling—looking unsure. This time, he didn’t smile. “Strip.”

 

Barry met his gaze, took a deep breath, and then began to take his clothes off. He didn’t make much of a show of it, but with each inch of unblemished skin that was exposed, Len felt a little bit more in control. As he watched Barry get naked, he recited, “This time we’ll use the stoplight system—in case you’re unfamiliar with that, it means that periodically I’ll check in with you. Green means that you are able and want to continue with the scene, yellow means that for whatever reason you need a break but do not want to end the scene, red means that you need to end the scene immediately. If at any point you are feeling yellow or red, you should let me know. When I check in with you, I expect a response; if you do not answer me, we will not proceed until you are capable of answering me. Do you understand?”

 

By this point Barry was naked. “Yes,” he murmured.

 

“Do you have any questions?”

 

“Just one. What do you want me to call you?”

 

He smirked. “I don’t care what you call me—I want you to be, well. Emotionally comfortable.”

 

With that, he guided Barry down onto his stomach on the cot, stroking his hands over the smooth, lean muscles of his back. He ran fingers through Barry’s hair, stroked his ribs. He traced his shape up first one arm, then the other. When he reached Barry’s wrists, he pulled the lengths of twine from the bag he’d nabbed on the way in, and ran them through Barry’s hands, over his palms, then down the length of his arm before finally securing each wrist to the post. Then he worked his way downward, repeating the process on each leg. He ran the prickly twine over the soles of Barry’s feet and up the backs of his legs, careful at the sensitive skin at the back of his knees, before tying each ankle in place. Then he simply touched, for a while, enjoying the feel of surprisingly unblemished skin.

 

Barry slowly relaxed, the muscles of his back loosening and the set of his limbs softening as much as they could while restrained. Then, with a sharp sound that seemed to echo in their little space, Len slapped Barry’s ass and watched the tantalizing mounds of flesh jiggle just a bit. Barry hummed softly, his back arching just a little. Len ran a hand doen Barry’s back, enjoyed the whisper of skin against skin, until his fingertips had traversed the dip at the bottom of Barry’s spine in full. With another crack, he delivered a second slap to the other, gorgeous cheek.

 

It went on like that for a few minutes. Barry’s cheeks slowly grew warm and pink. “Color?”

 

Barry’s reply was a far too chipper, “Green.” Len dug his fingers into his hair and yanked his head back, registering and filing away for later the moan that was drawn out of Barry’s throat by the action. He asked, “Did that hurt?”

 

An amused and mischievous smile fought its way onto Barry’s lips (so pretty, he could just bite that pouty little bottom lip) and he said, all teasing with false concern, “I’m sure it did. Do you need some BenGay for that elbow, old man?”

 

Maybe it had just been too long since Len had indulged, because it was only then that Len finally realized, “You’re a brat…”

 

Barry wiggled his butt in the air as much as he could in his bindings and pouted. “Name calling is hardly necessary,” he informed Len, who tightened his grip on Barry’s hair and leaned in close to breath in his ear.  
  
“I thought you didn’t like breaking the rules…”

 

Barry let out a weak little laugh. “I used to lie and sneak onto crime scenes to investigate my mother’s death. When you blackmailed, the selfless choice would have been to arrest you even if it meant my identity was revealed - you should be glad it was me you tried to pull that on and not the Arrow, by the way. He would have just killed you, and I know from personal experience that he’s very experienced in strangling people.” Hmm, now wasn’t _that_ interesting… there was a story there. “I broke you out of jail to move illegally detained criminals from one prison to a different, objectively much worse set up. I don’t disapprove of rule breaking necessarily. I disapprove of rule breaking when only one party benefits.”

 

“And you think both of us benefit when you don’t do what I tell you to?” Barry smirked and wiggled his ass in the air again. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t love to take out your day on my ass - that it’s just as fun and good at relieving your stress as it is for me. Sir,” he tacked on at the end, teasingly.

 

Len glanced down at the flesh on offer. Well, when you put it that way...

 

He drew his hand back, and came down hard with a loud _smack_. Barry rocked forward and cried out in shock, but then, to Len’s absolute delight, his back arched and that delicious looking ass pushed up in the air as much as it could, considering the bindings.

 

“Yes. Yes, Cold—Len— _please_!”

 

And he begged so prettily. So Len gave him what he wanted.

 

Another loud crack echoed around the room, accompanied by a near strangled moan. In just those two smacks, Barry’s ass had reddened further than all the lighter, more playful ones combined had managed.

 

“Look at you, Scarlet. Tied to a table in a sex dungeon, begging for a spanking from Captain Cold. Whining for it like a _slut_.” He dragged his nails down Barry’s back, leaving first white, then thin red lines trailing down either side of his spine. “What would your friends say if they could see you now? What would the good people of Central City think if they knew the Flash was such a little whore?”

 

The next few smacks were scattered, some on the flesh of his ass, which jiggled in the most appealing way each time, but some fell a little lower. After only a few minutes of this, Barry would be lucky if he were able to sit down normally anytime tonight, even with his fast healing.

 

He rutted back for more each time, even when tears formed. Len paused, knelt so that he could see Barry’s face at eye level. He gripped Barry’s chin, not tight enough to bruise, but certainly enough to hurt. One finger slid past Barry’s lips. He dragged his nail along the back of Barry’s tongue, and watched as those tears finally spilled over while Barry barely held back a gag.

 

He collected a tear with his thumb, gently, then pressed it into Barry’s mouth as well. Felt Barry’s tongue wrap around his finger like he was imagining something else in his mouth.

 

“I hope you like the taste of your tears,” he said, all velvety soft. “Since there will be a lot of them when you’re sucking my cock after this.”

 

He noticed Barry’s eye’s widen, in surprise? But then his hips pressed against the cot, rutting for as much friction as he could get in his position. Len walked around him, trailing fingers down his arm, over his shoulder and across his ribs, to rest at his hip. Slow hands slid down and around, until they rested at the crease of Barry’s thighs, so painfully close to where Barry desperately wanted them.

 

And then slid away again.

 

Barry let out a shuddering breath.

 

Suddenly fingers wound their way into his hair once again, yanking his head back. A hand slipped between his cheeks, newly slick finger teasing the rim of his hole.

 

Len leaned down once again to whisper to Barry. “I’m used to taking what I want. Tell me, Barry, is this mine?”

 

Barry let out a broken sob. “Yes!” He cried. “Yes, please, fuck. Cold. Please.”

 

Len’s chuckle reverberated off the walls. The finger slid in, slow. So goddamn slow. The hand in his hair released, and wound down around his throat. The first time Len stroked Barry’s prostate, Barry let out a shout that was immediately cut off by the press of Len’s hands around his throat.

 

His neglected cock twitched.

 

Another finger slid in alongside the first and, almost imperceptibly, they began to speed up. Soon they were joined by a third. Barry keened.

 

That’s when Len upped the ante.

 

Every little bit faster his fingers thrust, the hand around Barry’s throat tightened just a little. Barry felt the delightful sensation of the world going hazy around him even as Len thrust his hand harder, until in a single moment of white hot pleasure, he came.


	4. Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly as fun as it sounds. A very short chapter where some important things are hashed out, and the stage is set for more fun next time.

When Barry came to, he was wrapped up in a soft blanket. His hair was still sweat damp, and he was curled up against Len’s chest while he ran his hands over Barry’s arms as if to needlessly rub feeling back into them. 

 

“You… you didn’t,” he tried.

 

“We have a lo more to talk about before that.” They sat in comfortable silence for another minute, before Len said, even more sofly, “Actually, I’d like to talk about something else, first.”

 

Barry made an inquiring noise. “Before this, what we had was fun. And I’ve enjoyed these past few days. If you were willing … I’d like to explore this with you.”

 

Barry was almost embarrassed at how quickly he replied, “Yes! I - I mean, yeah. I’d be interested in that.”

 

Len smiled, softer than Barry had seen before, and ran a hand through Barry’s hair. “I’ve had casual arrangements before,” he mused, “but I’d like to have something permanent. We don’t have to rush into anything, though. I like to take my time.” His lips brushed over Barry’s temple.

 

“Are you trying to talk me into some sort of trial relationship? Like an app that asks for your debit card number and  _ totally  _ won’t charge you after seven days?”

 

“I am almost offended by that comparison. Although I suppose that’s a fairly decent way of putting it. Yes, I want to date you, I suppose. Have you at my mercy day and night and let us both see if it’s an arrangement that suits us.” His hand slides up to wrap gently around Barry’s throat, just in time to feel him swallow.

 

“Alright, then.” 

 

Len hums. “Alright. Down to business, then?” Barry nods. “I expect devotion from my sub. Can you do that? No one else but me while we’re together.”

 

“That’s not a problem.”

 

“Didn’t think so. You’re not the underhanded type, even if you like to play at it.” He tugged Barry’s hair and grinned when he let out a little moan, still so pliant in his arms. “I don’t have many rules, so I expect you to follow all of them. One: you’ll visit my house after work everyday, unless you’ve already told me that you’ll be unable to, with a valid reason why. I decide if the reason is acceptable. Two: if I put you on your knees, you stay there.” Seeing Barry’s lips twitch, and already knowing that the brat is going to be obnoxious about this one, he elaborates,” That means if I have you kneel, you stay kneeling. If I then ask you to go somewhere, you will crawl unless I tell you you may stand and walk. Do I make myself clear?” Barry pouts, but then nods slowly. He pats Barry on the head. “Good. Oh, and no flashing in my house. You may choose your own safeword. Do you understand these rules?”

 

Barry nodded.    
  


“One more thing, since we have such a unique situation, Scarlet. I like to show off my toys. I think you know that. If and when I decided to show you off, you’ll have to remember that I’m the only one who knows who you are. That means you’ll have to behave accordingly. Do you think you can do that?”

 

He nodded shakily. 

 

“Good. Then if you’re coming up, I think it’s time I sent you home. Here’s my address. I’ll expect you there tomorrow. Don’t be late - I know you have a bad habit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm collecting some important data for my future fics ("Important data...." What is this, chem lab? Oh man, university is actually making me a scientist! XD). I'd really appreciate it if you'd all comment and answer two questions. 
> 
> 1) Do you prefer first person ("I picked up the ball."), third person ("He picked up the ball."), or does it not affect your opinion of a story?
> 
> and
> 
> 2) Do you prefer stories that are in past tense ("I picked up the ball."), present tense ("I pick up the ball.") or does it not affect your opinion of the story?
> 
> Thanks a bunch to anyone who responds!


	5. A Whole New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be longer, considering how long I've been gone, but it just seemed like a really good place to end it, and with how busy I've been lately, I figured it would be better to give you guys something now rather than however long it takes for me to get my next chapter out. So ...
> 
> Len and Barry explore their new arrangement, and someone may already be suspicious...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, feel free to skip this if you don’t want to hear my excuses. But if you’re curious, I haven’t posted in - gosh, six weeks or so? Because I’ve had seven exams, I had to move in with a friend for about three weeks, and now I’m switching my major because, while I’m pretty good at chemistry, I apparently am not suited at all to the biology that I had to study. That’s setting me back about a year and a half, but hopefully I’ll be pursuing an education and career in a field that is more suited to my personal interests and talents. I am so grateful to all of you wonderful readers, and I can’t thank you enough for your patience and support. But on with the show!

He arrived at a quaint house, inconspicuously nestled behind an untended garden, only twenty minutes after he got off work. It took him an extra ten minutes to work up the nerve to climb the porch steps and stand before the door. He wasn’t too surprised when it swung open before he had a chance to either knock or nervously retreat.

 

Len leaned against the door, amused smirk twisting his lips, and Barry couldn’t help but smile sheepishly when they finally locked gazes. Without a word, Len took a step back and gestured for Barry to enter.

 

He was only a few steps in, curiously taking in the subtle wallpaper in an icy shade of light blue and the blackout blinds over a large window in the den, when suddenly the air was forced out of his lungs as he was shoved against the wall. A hand wrapped around his throat and a leg slid between his thighs to grind the zipper of his jeans against his crotch. Warm breath puffed against his neck, right where his ear attached to his jaw. 

 

His eyes rolled back in his head, all thoughts gone. Len chuckled darkly. “I consider myself a patient man,” he whispered, fisting a handful of Barry’s hair tightly. “That doesn’t mean I enjoy waiting on an easy acquisition.” He pulled Barry’s head back til his neck was exposed, and carefully sucked a hickey into the flesh there. It would be gone in less than three minutes.

 

“Did you just call me easy?” He panted out. Len chuckled.

 

“I have something for you,” he said in reply.

 

_ I’ll bet _ , Barry thought, feeling the press of the nicely sized bulge in Len’s jeans against his thigh. Len laughed, a real, warm laugh that set butterflies fluttering in Barry’s stomach. He murmured, “Not yet.” His hand slid out of Barry’s hair and down his neck and arm, sending a delicious shiver down Barry’s spine which Len’s other hand unknowingly followed. With a hand at the small of Barry’s back, he led Barry into the den as he had escorted him at Red Escape. He thought he could get used to that.

 

One they sat down across a coffee table, Len pulled a folded up sheet of paper out from within his jacket which he handed to Barry. He opened it, and then blinked.

 

“You got tested?”

 

Len gave a one shoulder shrug. “Better to be safe.”

  
“I can’t catch or pass on diseases. Part of the whole ‘super-fast-metabolism’ thing.” Despite this, Barry felt kind of warm. It was very thoughtful that Len had considered that—before the lightning, he’d run into a few doms who weren’t as set on safe sex as Len seemed to be, and when he’d been new to the scene, it hadn’t always been a deal breaker. 

 

It should have.

 

Len’s eyes darkened. “Good to know.”

 

Barry was caught up in those eyes for a minute. He wondered what Len was thinking about. One thing he’d come to realize in his time in the scene, was that Doms were, invariably, endlessly creative. He cleared his throat.

 

“So. What now?” He asked, feeling warm and antsy and awkward in  his inability to explain his own thoughts. But Len seemed to get it, understanding his unique idiosyncrasies in that way that he’d always seemed to be able to do. When they faced off against one another, it made him a distinctly challenging opponent. In this situation, though, Barry thought that that trait showed considerably more pleasant potential, for the both of them.

 

“Now?” Len grinned. “Now we have dinner.”

  
  


Len had made spaghetti. Maybe not the fanciest of date foods, but it was quick, and easy, and as a surprise bonus, there was more than enough to keep up with even the Flash’s incredible metabolism.

 

Also, it smelled amazing. 

 

“I kept track of you for weeks after discovering your identity,” Len explained shamelessly as he lead Barry to the dining room. “Know thy enemy, and all that.”

 

Barry stopped awkwardly in the doorway, carefully watching Len for his cue. Len stopped when he sensed that Barry was no longer following him, and looked back in concern. But, as Barry was beginning to expect, he understood almost immediately. With exaggerated motions and a softer smile than Barry thought he’d ever seen from the man before, Len set both plates down on the table. That beautiful smile turned dirty as he gestured for Barry to sit down. “I’m not one for hand feeding,” he said. “But don’t worry, Scarlet. I’ll have you on your knees soon enough.”

 

Barry swallowed thickly and took his seat across from Len.

 

Under Len’s watchful gaze, he took a bite of pasta, and then melted. “Oh my god, you made this?” He groaned behind his hand. Len grinned and didn’t reply.

 

They ate in relative silence (except for Barry’s occasional food-sex moaning). Len took a moment after, and seemed to considering him, those blue eyes tracing over him in a way that Barry thought his could actually feel leaving frigid trails along his skin. Abruptly, he stood and headed to the den. Barry watched his back, for a few seconds considering just staying put. After all, he wasn’t told to follow. But … 

 

He scampered through the kitchen quickly, only to find the other man already sitting in the center of the couch against the back wall of the den. He ignored Barry, at first, grabbing a remote and flipping through the television channels. When Barry continued to stand in the doorway, though, he looked up. 

 

With a wave downward, he gestured to the floor by his feet.

 

Barry kept his gaze firmly on Len’s face as he crossed the den with shaking knees. When he stood before Len, he sunk down to the ground, and instantly felt fingers card through his hair.  The hand pulled on his head, just a little. Not painful, but insisting that he lower his chin to rest on Len’s thigh. When he did so, he was overcome by the scent of Len’s cologne and by the feel of his fingers stroking though Barry’s hair.

 

At first, he watched Len’s expression (carefully neutral, he thought) and listened to Len continue to channel surf until some documentary caught his attention. His fingers never faltered in their soothing rhythm in his hair, his breathing perfectly even, and eventually Barry felt the tension bleed out of his shoulders, his posture softening until his head lolled against Len’s hip. Warmth settled into his bones and his eyelids drooped shut. 

 

This? This was good. This was peaceful. 

 

For the next however long, there was nothing but quiet in his head and the trail of Len’s fingers through his hair. The softness of submission, an almost light-headed sensation. For once he had nothing to worry about, no tests to run in his lab, no crime to fight, no decisions to make.

 

He floated for hours and only minutes, until a soft buzzing drifted into his hazy space like shafts of light underwater. Len’s hand finished its final path through his hair and this time squeezed gently on the nape of his neck before Len coaxed his head up. He distantly felt his eyes screw tight before peeling open to see Len smiling down at him. “Awake?”

 

It took a minute to register that the sunlight no long streamed through the curtains. He whipped his head around in search of a clock. 

 

“It’s nine,” Len said. “And time for you to go home and go to sleep.”

  
  


The door banged against the wall with a satisfying thud as Lisa stormed through.

 

“Arrogant son of a—I don’t know why I even try anymore,” she hissed under her breath. She caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror at the end of the hall and took a moment to carefully smooth her hair with her fingers. She gave herself a winning smile, which slowly faded as she just barely caught a strange sound over Shawna’s too-loud and bass-y dance music.

 

Was that…? Couldn’t be…

 

With the mischievous energy of younger siblings everywhere and the grace of a thief who had never been caught, she crept down the hallway and pressed her ear against the thick wood of Lenny’s office door.

 

And there it was again!

 

Lenny was… laughing! 

 

“Yes, I’ll see you tonight,” she heard him say.

 

As she backed off, quietly making her way out to the Rogue’s common area in the back of Saints and Sinners, Lisa considered what she’d heard.

 

Of course, it was nothing conclusive, but the last time she’d heard that tone in Lenny’s voice… and it had definitely been even longer since she’d heard him laugh.

 

Maybe it was about time she check in on her dearest brother. She could pay him a visit tomorrow….


	6. Impatience, and How to (Sort of) Get What You Want by Barry Allen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha haha ha, um. Snow days mean I can finally post? I'm so sorry. I hope you enjoy.

It had been a week. A sort of unexpectedly awesome week. Actually, if Barry was being honest, he was surprised by how well things had been going. Except for one thing.

 

Despite going over to Len’s house every evening after he got off work, despite the moments that he could only describe as positively  _ heated _ , they still had not had sex.

 

Now, Barry didn’t like to think of himself as a particularly needy sub. In fact, just the opposite. Most of the time he enjoyed his independence - he had goals in life that were far too important for a restrictive 24/7 lifestyle enforced by a heavy-handed dom, and on top of that he was willing to admit that he had a penchant for mischief once he felt comfortable enough in the relationship to let that side of himself be known. One of his favorite parts of submitting was the exasperated amusement that he could wring out of even the most stubborn of doms. Yet at his core, like most subs, he was a pleaser. He liked to serve. It was something he’d come to terms with when he was a freshman in college. Just a part of himself, like being interested in men, that he’d accepted. So he didn’t complain - out loud, at least.

 

But, dammit, he wanted to get fucked. 

 

That desire to finally  _ be  _ with Len, not just to feel him deep inside, but to submit to and serve him in all ways, had been growing in Barry since their coffee date. Len was an attractive man, and seemed to have complimentary interests to his own, and he’d steadily proved that the exceptional patience and meticulous planning that made him such a good thief proved equally beneficial to being a good dom.

 

Unfortunately, the closest they’d gotten to any sort of real play since their scene in Red Escape after the coffee date, (as nice as it was to wind down his evenings kneeling at Len’s feet, or be pressed up against the nearest semi-flat surface - horizontal or vertical - and kissed until breathless, his wrists caught up in Len’s unfaltering grip, it just wasn’t the intense, complete experience that he  _ knew  _ they both longed for)  was an exchange on the third day that Barry had gone over to Len’s.

 

It began as both of the days before had, with Len inviting him in to his home. They ate dinner together, and had a pleasant conversation about their days, and then Len led Barry to the den as he had each day before and guided him to kneel at his feet. He ran his hand through Barry’s hair softly and rubbed his thumb along Barry’s cheek before catching him at his chin.

 

“You are not to touch yourself,” Len growled, so seriously that, honestly, Barry didn’t know what he was really expecting.

 

Barry glanced pointedly down at his own elbow, which rested comfortably on his knee, and at his legs which had been pressed against each other as he kneeled before Len, before he made a face that included bulging eyes, and threw himself back. He landed lightly on his back and starfished out in the plush carpet before craning his neck to grin cheekily at Len.

 

Except Len was no longer sitting in the armchair. Instead Barry followed the lean lines of his now-standing form up to his face where he wore an abnormally intense expression.

 

“Very cute,” he said. “But do you know what I think would look even better?”

 

And almost before Barry could realize what was happening - not really, because  _ superspeed _ , but y’know, he gave Len props for dramatic flair - Len’s foot came to rest right over the bulge in the front of Barry’s chinos. And then pressed down. Slowly he bore more and more weight onto Barry’s poor cock, until Barry was squirming beneath him, hands fisted tight at his sides and eyes rolled back into his head which pressed into the ground below.

 

“Yeah, just like that,” Len hummed. “You’re so pretty when you’re writhing in pain beneath me. Are you listening to me?” Len asked, obviously rhetorically because there was  _ nothing  _ that could take Barry’s attention away from him right now. Still, Barry nodded frantically when Len pressed sharply against his dick which was probably dribbling pathetically in his pants.

 

“You will not touch this pretty little cock, do you understand? You get off on my cock, by my hands, or not at all.”

 

With that, Len had taken his seat back and casually unzipped his jeans. He’d stroked himself a few times, and stared at Barry, who felt his mouth water at sight, before he crooked a single finger. Barry shuffled forward on his knees, and at Len’s nod fell mouth first on his cock with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm that he doubted he’d felt anything like since he lost his virginity to Amy Douglas in her dorm their freshman year of college. 

 

That experience had been a total let down. It was awkward, and her room was freezing, and her roommate didn’t know how to knock. Finally wrapping his lips around Len’s cock, though? That was fan _ tas _ tic.

 

In fact, his mouth watered just thinking about it, which was probably why the alarm in STAR Labs went off just then. With a sigh, Barry was dressed and in the streets in a matter of microseconds, and then he slipped on a patch of ice as soon as he phased through the front door of the ultra-fancy house situated on a hill on the outskirts of town. 

 

“Flash,” Cold greeted him with a smirk down the barrel of his light up Elsa gun. (Cisco might actually kill him if he voiced that thought. Come to think of it, Len might, too…) “You’re looking a little frustrated.”

 

Barry glared at him as harshly as he could, and watched with dry amusement as he shifted, seemingly thrown off his game. And why wouldn’t he be? The banter when the Flash showed up had become as much a signature of their heists as the singed walls and frozen patches on the ground at the end. But honestly, Barry only felt it fair to remind Len exactly how  _ frustrating _ it could be when one didn't get what they wanted.

 

And on that note…

 

In a whirlwind of speed, too quick for the average human, even humans with fantastic weapons such as Leonard Snart and Mick Rory to react to, Barry had swept his criminals up and carried them halfway across town to plant them in front of the police station.

 

“How long do you have before someone co mes outside and sees two wanted criminals loitering?” He asked with a smirk. 

 

He called upon the speed force to flash away, but at first only hid in a nearby alley. 

 

“I don't know what sort of deal you've got with leather-boy,” Rory started as they quickly passed the entrance to Barry's alley, “but somethin's gone bunk. Fix it.”

  
  


Barry was waiting for Len when he got home, that evening. He knew he was wearing the sort of cocky grin that a girl in high school had said made him look like a Disney villain.

 

“Rather impatient this afternoon, weren’t we?” Len asked as he stepped through the door. He didn’t seem surprised to see Barry there, at least, but Barry wondered at the slightly (forgive the pun)  _ frigid  _ tone.

 

Barry stayed silent. He watched Len move to stand at the center of the den, still wearing his parka and goggles. It was impressive, he thought, how easily the man was able to fill the room.

 

Almost like Barry wished he’d fill something  _ else _ .

 

That was juvenile. True, but juvenile.

 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

 

He bit his lip and looked at Len under his lashes. “It sucks, doesn’t it? Not getting what you want...”

 

He cocked a brow. “Is  _ that  _ what this is about?” He crossed the room swiftly, and leant over Barry, one hand on the back of the couch, the other holding Barry’s chin. “Are you really so desperate?”

 

The hand on the couch quickly grabbed hold of his hair even more roughly than usual and yanked his head back. “Answer me, slut. Are you gagging for it so bad that you had to throw a temper tantrum? You wanted my  _ attention  _ that much?”

 

Tears in his eyes, Barry tried to nod, which only prompted a whimper from his throat. “Y-yes,” he admitted, and felt warmth rise to his cheeks when Len laughed cruelly. 

 

“What a needy little whore,” he drawled. “You couldn’t even last a week?” Barry let out a little whine and tried to lean into Len, only to pull on his own hair against Len’s immovable hand.

 

He moved like he was going to kiss Barry, only to stop short. “Well, if that’s what you want.” He suddenly pulled so forcefully against Barry’s hair and his shoulder that he was forced from his seat. He stumbled forward, Len pushing him down a dark hall and through a doorway.

 

He didn’t have a chance to take in the room, beside noticing it was a bedroom when he was shoved face first onto the bed. Len’s hand came down to press forcefully onto the middle of his back before he could attempt to roll over. As he stilled, the hand slid up his back to his neck, and forced his face down into the bedding while another yanked his hips up into the air. A rush of cool air met his skin as his pants were roughly shoved down to pool at his bent knees, and then Len was pushing his shirt up, about halfway up his arms, where he left it, binding Barry’s arms and blinding him. The tips of calloused fingers ran over his skin, from the middle of his back to the swells of each asscheek, before disappearing.

 

There was muted scraping sound, followed by the soft rustling of fabric. Then he felt it. The slow slide of leather strips, thin and soft (though not enough to take the sting out of his, he knew) maybe fifteen or so, dragging over his back.

 

A flogger.

 

He sucked in an anticipatory breath and tried to ignore the shiver of excitement running down his spine. 

 

“Whiny, bratty little subs who misbehave have to be punished,” Len drawled. “Let’s not confuse this with some respect for rules on  _ my  _ part,” he chuckled mockingly, “it’s just that I see I’ll have to make sure my property understands its place.”

 

Barry swallowed thickly. He had to admit he liked the sound of that - being called Len’s property. But as he felt the flogger lift from his skin, he jokingly thought to himself that Len must not understand that a flogging, to a masochist, was hardly a  _ punishment _ .

 

The first swing brought the tips of the leather strips down on the center of his left ass cheek, and he gasped, his body involuntarily tensing. The next was longer, utilizing the full length of the tawse. A sharp sting on his right cheek, leather sliding across his skin and leaving a warm tingle in its wake. The third fell on his upper back, safely to the right of his spine. The fourth landed a little closer to his shoulder, and the warmth began to bloom across his back as well. The next one was a particularly heavy blow on his ass, and after that he lost count, only aware of the sting, and the warmth, the tingle, and the way his cock began to twitch after every swing.

 

What must have been hours later, it seemed, the last swat was delivered to his back, and then the tawse was simply trailed, delicately, over his heated skin. His breath caught when the tails dragged across a few areas that had received a bit more attention than others, but his cock, pressed into the bedding below him, was jealously begging for attention at that point. 

 

The flogger dropped onto the bed beside his head - he could feel the slight shift in the air as it landed, but still couldn’t see a thing - and then a hand was on his shoulder, rolling him over.

 

He hissed as the new position put pressure on the now tender areas across his back and ass, but didn’t protest as his jeans were finally removed fully, and then his legs were laid over Len’s shoulders, pressing his back into the bedding even more. With his arms bound above his head there was no relief in sight. He squirmed against the shirt, but the movement was quickly stilled as he felt a finger quickly press into him.

 

Len prepped him quickly. Barry’s head fell back when he pressed in with a hum. His back arched, only to hiss as sore flesh rubbed against the sheets. He whined, a high pitched sound from the back of his throat, and then began to fight against his shirt once again.

 

Len laughed and dragged his nails down the side of Barry’s waist, and began thrusting in earnest. 

 

Just as he managed to free his head from the shirt with a sputter, a sting erupted in his cheek, eliciting a gasp. The hand he used to slap Barry with came down to grab Barry’s throat. Len leant down to whisper in his ear, “Is  _ this _ ,” he grunted as he delivered a particularly vicious thrust, “what you wanted, bitch?” Barry, even with damp cheeks and wet eyelashes, nodded frantically. So Len squeezed Barry’s throat, listening to the little moans and whimpers cut off for a moment, and when he relaxes his grip, he hissed, “You should be thanking me for indulging you.” 

 

Barry, still nodding desperately, gasped out, “Thank you, thank you sir.” 

 

His thrusts never lost their rhythm, not really. Len was far too controlled for something as human as that, but Barry did eventually notice an additional hitch in each one. Len was close.

 

His free hand slide down Barry’s sweat-damp stomach and wrapped around Barry’s cock.  He gave him one sweet stroke, only to clamp down solidly at the base. Barry gasped and writhed, and one leg slid off Len’s shoulder.

 

Len smirked and whispered in his ear, “I’m already fucking you, pet. You didn’t expect to cum as well after how you behaved today, did you?” At Barry’s expression of horror, he huffed out a laugh, and with a few more rough thrusts, he groaned and spilled into Barry, squeezing even tighter on the poor little cock in his hand. 

 

Barry whined, but Len, appearing entirely unruffled except for barely rough breath, only grinned wickedly down at him. He enjoyed the moment - the satisfaction of a great orgasm soaking in, a needy sub trembling beneath him - before he whispered, “I hope I don’t need to remind you that you will not be making yourself cum tonight,” as he pulled out, delivering a quick smack to Barry’s weeping cock. His broken gasp and hitched whimper was music to Len’s ears. 

 

“Before you go, pet, clean me up.”

 

It was, he thought as he relaxed into the sensation of a desperate sub’s kitten licks on his spent cock, great to be a dominant.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick side note that though I have this whole fic outlined, and a few chapters already written, this fic will likely be updated slowly as I work on my other, more General Audience fics and enter into my sophomore year of university soon. Still, thanks to anyone who read this, I hope you enjoyed it ;) As always, feedback is super appreciated.


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